


Midwest Gothic

by AimlesslyAinley



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: American Midwest, Anxiety, Gen, Minnesota, Perkins - Freeform, Smoking, Statues, mannequins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AimlesslyAinley/pseuds/AimlesslyAinley
Summary: At a previous job, much like the one good Ol' Greg works at, I got struck with inspiration in the middle of summer. I started this back in May or June, and kind of abandoned it, not sure if there was a plot at the time, but now, bringing back my writing, I feel like this needs a touch up and some love.And that is what brought me here.





	1. Bright Reflections

The Doctor frowned; he didn’t recognize where he was, or why there is so many emergency response vehicles driving by, seemingly all at once. He stepped out of the TARDIS, looking around. He had to squint, the sun reflected off a thousand windows, the air smelled foul but breathable, and something else seemed off, but what…  
“Hmmm.” The Doctor hummed to himself, he licked a finger and held it in the air, as if trying to distinguish /what/ kind of air it was. He frowned deeper and darted back into the TARDIS. He inspected the console readings, the frown never leaving his face, but his eyes glinting with the sense of a new adventure. After frantically typing in a few things and switching screens twice, he gives the ship a sarcastic smile.  
“ok, yes, I get the point now, thank you.” He says wandering off to the wardrobe, realizing his jumper and jacket would be far too warm in the current climate. The Doctor once again steps out of the TARDIS, now wearing a T-shirt and his standard navy blue coat, with the red lining. He closes the door to the TARDIS and walks out of the alley he landed in, towards the bustling city street. Slipping his Sonic glasses on as he stepped towards the curb, he took a quick reading of the area, and headed off towards a place of interest that his glasses picked up on. Briskly striding down the street, jacket flowing behind him, the sun blaring onto his face, causing him to frown. He walked across a bridge, his glasses pinging a notification that he was arriving to where they were guiding him to.  
In a shabby looking shop, with upbeat music playing and the only soul in the store an employee. The doorbell chimes, alerting the young man to a customer. Putting the book down, the man, Greg, looked up to greet the customer but was instead confronted with a strange looking man standing in the doorway looking into the small adult rated boutique.  
“Joy, this looks like a fun one.” Greg mumbled to himself, standing he smiles, “Hi there, how is it going?”  
The man, the Doctor, looks at Greg, his expressions skewed by the sunglasses, walks up to the counter and never once breaks his gaze from the young person. Greg took a step back, out of uncertainty and discomfort of a stranger walking right up to him in the store that frequently brought in all sorts of shady and unpredictable people.  
“How can I help you, sir?” Greg’s voice no longer a false warm or welcoming, but flat and defensive. The Doctors lips screws into a half frown,  
“Tell me,” he takes his glasses off, while looking around, “I’m in the American Midwest, correct?” His Scottish brogue making him an instant outsider. Greg stiffened up a little more, unsure of how to respond.  
“Uh, yeah. You’re in the heart of Minnesota; Saint Paul.” Greg crossed his arms. The Doctor merely grunted in a positive response. He starts wandering deeper into the store, eyes looking at everything, raising his eyebrow once in a while, when something didn’t make sense to the Gallifreyan. Greg following close behind,  
“Is there something I can help you with? Are you okay, you seem a bit out of it…” Greg asks, causing the Doctor turns to him, seeming to inspect him closely this time.  
“Oh, so you do work here, I was wondering if you were a squatter or some vagrant that was loitering here.” He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.  
“I do work here, and if you’re going to be a pest, then I’ll have to ask you to leave, sir.” Greg puffed his chest out, becoming aggravated.  
“I’m not going to be a bother, listen, I’ll leave a card so we can discuss this when you’re not preoccupied.” The man walks back towards the exit, leaving a small card on the counter and left the store after putting his glasses back on. Greg is left standing in the middle of the store, his mouth half open and unsure of what to think of the events. Greg slowly makes his way back to the counters, picking up the small blue card which had a sort of odd holographic lettering on it.  
“Perkins, around midnight.” 

Greg furrowed his brows, but before he could react, the door chimes with more customers coming in.


	2. Stiff Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg decides to meet with the stranger at the diner, but did he bite off more than he can chew? And what about the stiff staff working there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character building, so its a bit wordy.

The store was closed for the night, Greg stared at the card, his stomach pulling with anxiety. He sucked a breath in, and clocked out for the night. Leaving the store parking lot, and heading onto the freeway home, he decided to miss the exit to the restaurant and head home to refresh himself quick.  
“Damn that weird guy for doing this.” Greg grunted, cigarette in mouth. “I gotta get out of these grungy work clothes… this isn’t a date though. What the hell. I just don’t want to wear this dorky shit, and make a bad impression. God I sound like a dork.”  
Greg continues to mutter to himself as he pulls up into the driveway of his house. He gets out of the car and, with his work bag in hand, jogs up to the house when he stops. His stomach tightened with anxiety, He pushed the door open and disappeared inside, clattering as he rushes to his room. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he decided to do this, he didn’t like most people, let alone men that approached him at work. He slips a fresh shirt on and bolts back outside.  
\---  
The Doctor sat in the mildly lit and painfully boring diner. He had managed to balance two forks on a small coin on the edge of the glass of water. As he smirks with entertained pride, the door chimed and he glanced up. He raised his eyebrows. 

‘So, he decided to show up. I guess we’ll see how he handles the rest.’ The Doctor pulls a smile when the young man looks towards him from the entrance, giving a small wave. 

Greg walks over, unslings his bag, and sits on the other side of the table. Greg, nauseated from anxiety, darts his eyes between the Doctor and the physics fork display, unsure of what the display of scientific flexing was supposed to indicate. The Doctor flashes a good nature smile, trying to draw out a response from Greg.

“Who are you, and just for the record; you’re definitely not the first dude to try this at my store, but you weren’t looking at the products.” Greg sighed, “You barely made it into the store… like you had blinders on. WHO are you?” Greg’s eyes narrowed, uncertain of what kind of person The Doctor was. The Doctor carefully folded his hands onto the table, coolly studying Greg’s worried face. 

“First off, most just call me the Doctor. I’m no wizard, so I have no clue who you are or what your name is, but I’ve got this hunch about you.” The Doctor says flatly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “See, in my travels, I don’t usually randomly happen upon boring people. I don’t think you’re boring, just judging by you showing up, but I’ve been wrong before.”

“So, you’re a talent agent, then? Is that what this is?” Greg laughs, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. Before anyone could say anything more, a waitress stops by to take their orders, interrupting. The two give their orders, and the waitress unceremoniously leaves. Greg crosses his arms again, becoming defensive about the strange man that ushered him to the diner this late at night. 

“Ok, I can see that you’re obviously and rightly hesitant to be open with me. I told you I’m the Doctor, how do people know you? What’s your name? I’m a traveler and a teacher, I might be sarcastic, but I’m not mean.” The Doctor says, his palms showing towards Greg, expressing his non-hostility. Greg gently frowns.

“I’m Greg. How could I be interesting at all? You saw where I work, I don’t deal with the best people, but I do my best to educate. My biggest wish in life right now is to travel…” Greg trails off, growing quiet as his throat tightens with anxiety. Turning his attention to studying his hands, Greg’s expression grows still, his nerves screaming at him for opening up to a stranger. The Doctor tilts his head, examining the young man and looking for a signal to why he suddenly shut down, respecting Greg’s silent boundaries. 

Their orders arrive shortly after the conversation grows cold and Greg pokes at his meal as the Doctor preoccupies himself with his sandwich. Suddenly, Greg darts his head towards the the far side of the diner and freezes. The Doctor pauses for a moment, and bites down on his sandwich. The Doctor grunts in question, knowing full well he wouldn’t talk or answer questions with his mouth full. 

“Doctor…” Greg asks, frozen like a cat who spots a prey, “Would you say that strange things tend to happen with you? Because I’m the sort of person, where I could be enjoying a meal, and something out of the ordinary would happen. A fight among guests, a reunion between two lost people… mannequins showing up randomly. You know, simple things.” Greg’s voice cracked at mannequins. He had a deep seated fear towards the vile things, and of course the day were all was going sideways, one would be standing in the corner of the Perkins that he was at. 

The Doctor finished chewing and swallowed the bite, his eyes wide and curious.  
“A mannequin? Here?” He asked still looking at Greg, who was still affixed on the object. Greg mustered a small nod.

“I don’t like mannequins, too eerie. They look like incomplete people…” Greg says slowly, as if trying to not spook the statue from across the room. The Doctor wipes his mouth with a napkin and turns to look at the thing which spooked Greg so much, the hair on his neck standing up. After a moment, the Doctor sees the statue in question, and quickly turns back to Greg, whose face has twisted into discomfort.

“That.” The Doctor shoves his thumb behind him, towards the statue. “That’s what you’re afraid of? A cheap bit of plastic telling us the soup of the day?” He scoffs, wearing an incredulous expression. Prying his eyes off the statue, Greg looks at the Doctor, who gives him a look before continuing his meal, and quietly goes back to prodding his meal.  
Standing up from the table, and going to leave, the Doctor stops Greg, “Hey, I have to go make a phone call real quick. Can you grab the bill?” The Doctor flashes a smile to Greg who was feeling quite gauche at the moment. Quietly nodding, the Doctor pats him on the shoulder and sprints out of the diner, coat flapping behind him. Left in the quiet restaurant, Greg shuffles over to the counter to pay for the meals, unable to shake a feeling of being watched and the hairs on his neck standing up. After thanking the cashier and turning towards the door, Greg shoots the statue one last look in hopes to ease his fears, only to find the figure looking right at him. Greg left the restaurant as fast as he can, trying to forget about the strange night.


End file.
